The Curse of the Pharaoh #1 by Sir Steve Stevenson Read Free Book Online

bites of ice cream, Dr. Dortmunder showered Agatha with compliments. “Such remarkable insight! Mm, aren’t these yummy? Brilliant detective work. How did you manage to track down the thieves so quickly?”
    “We’ve got a great teacher,” she shrugged, glancing at the trusty butler.
    “You’re so modest, Miss!”
    The scholar chuckled, rubbing the round belly that spilled out from under his T-shirt. Then he stopped in front of a lopsided tent and unzippedthe mosquito net guarding the entrance. “Here’s your royal palace,” he said. “If you need water, the tank is down that way. Sweet dreams to all!”
    Before joining her companions, Agatha watched him waddle down the path, whistling.
    “He’s gone,” she whispered, pulling back the tent flap.
    Dash was already out like a light, snoring on one of the cots, while Chandler had settled himself into the folding chair. He had gotten used to sleeping sitting up when he had worked the night shift at a hotel desk.
    “What are you doing, you slackers?” Agatha scolded them. “I asked to stay in this tent so we could search for clues, not go to sleep!”
    Chandler opened his eyes and sprang to his feet. “Certainly, Miss Agatha,” he said quickly.
    Dash didn’t budge. “Can’t it wait till tomorrow?” he droned in a hollow voice.
    “No, Dash.”
    Eyelids drooping, Dash dragged himself up from the cot and attempted to stand. His body sagged like a mummy. “Sorry, verticality issues,” he mumbled, sliding down onto a pile of clothes left behind by the laborers.
    A split second later, he was asleep again.
    “Guess it’s just us, Chandler,” Agatha sighed.
    He nodded and hung up a battery-powered lantern, flooding the tent with light.
    They started to poke through the mess. Chandler lifted a bath towel, uncovering a stash of Egyptian goods: cups, small pots, ashtrays, and coasters decorated with pictures of pharaohs and gods.
    “Very curious,” he observed.
    Agatha turned a bust over and started to laugh. The label read MADE IN CHINA .
    “It looks like our two laborers sold souvenirson the side,” she said, tapping the bridge of her nose. “Which makes me think they were…”
    “What, Miss Agatha?”
    But she didn’t have time to respond.
    “ARGHHH!” yelled Dash. “That stupid cat!”
    Watson ran over to Agatha. “What happened?” she asked.
    “That furry monster was licking my ear,” screeched Dash. “Feel this…it’s all slimy!”

    He lowered his voice. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
    Agatha strode over and peeled off a piece of paper that had stuck to his cheek.
    There was a message written on it, composed in Arabic letters cut out of a newspaper.
    “Instant Translate,” said Agatha. Dash was already scanning it onto his EyeNet.
    “It says…pathetic
fellah
.” He looked at his cousin. “
Fellah
?”
    “
Fellahin
are Egyptian peasants. Go on.”
    Dash read: “You will be struck by the pharaoh’s curse if you do not leave by dawn!”
    Agatha’s heart beat faster.
    “This changes everything!” she gushed. “The tablet is still here! Nobody stole it! It’s right in this camp!”

T he next morning, the three detectives awoke bleary-eyed, but satisfied that they had made a big step in their investigation.
    The message in newspaper clippings cleared the two laborers of any guilt.
    Agatha had once read a book about Egyptian curses. The curse of Tutankhamen was the most famous, and many
fellahin
refused to work on tomb excavations because of such superstitions. Obviously the two poor laborers had fled the camp in a hurry, without telling a soul, because they were terrified by the curse.
    So they hadn’t stolen the tablet.
    There was only one possible conclusion: the precious find was hidden somewhere in the camp.
    “You need to keep the three scientists away from base camp as long as possible,” Agatha told Chandler. “If we can find out where the tablet is hidden, we’ll also discover who stole it, right,